Merry Freakin Christmas
by L-chan the Great
Summary: Every Christmas was definitely insane with the people Ludwig associated with every day.  In fact, he was beginning to believe that one year their gift should be a trip to the psychiatric ward...  A humorous songfic in honor of Christmas!


**A songfic for the song "Merry Freakin' Christmas". I'm sure we all know it. If you don't, make sure you look it up. It's absolutely hilarious. I hope this little story I wrote lives up to standards as well.**

**Obviously, my story is in honor of Christmas. I know many people celebrate many different things, or nothing at all, and I hope my focus solely on Christmas does not offend anyone. Happy Holidays, everyone~!**

**I cut out a lot of the song lyrics, but that's just because it would go on forever if I didn't! Also, this will be my last "special" or new story started for a long time. I'll get to work on my other fics pronto!**

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><p><strong>One Week Before Christmas<strong>

"**School's out,**

**Christmas break.**

**Home for the Holidays.**

**Meatloaf and fruitcake"**

"Ve, Luddy~! Luddy, over heeeeeeeeere~!"

The blond German shut his eyes tightly. School had been out for a total of two minutes and thirty-seven seconds, and already his… _earnest_ friend had successfully hunted him down.

"How many times have I told you not to call me that?" Ludwig snapped at the shorter auburn-haired boy.

Feliciano was unperturbed by Ludwig's irritated mood. This was _Ludwig_ he was talking to, and Ludwig was _always _irritated about something. Instead, he spread his arms wide with a broad smile.

"You're going to come over to my house for the Christmas party, right?"

Ludwig's eyes twitched. He really didn't even want to think about spending an entire day at Feliciano's house. It was worse than spending time with his narcissistic older brother and his psychotic (but good-looking, nonetheless) wife. Speaking of which, he had to spend the entire break with the two. Going to an annoying Christmas party was not on his list of things two do.

"I'm sorry, Feliciano, I can't. I told you that I'm spending time with my brother and his three friends," Ludwig said. It was true that Gilbert had three friends coming over, one of which was more friends with his brother's wife than with Gilbert himself. Although he didn't have any intention of being around when said friends actually came over.

Feliciano looked disappointed. His entire being drooped, crestfallen by Ludwig's quick refusal. "Ve, it's ok," he replied sadly.

The German boy gave a terse nod. "_Ja_, I'm sorry. Christmas is for the family," Ludwig explained as a half-hearted apology.

For some reason, his statement made the Italian perk up. "Ve, you're right! Families should all spend Christmas time together! I have to go now, _ciao_ Luddy~!" Before Ludwig could even protest at the nickname, Feliciano spun on his heel and fled out of the school with the speed of a retreating Italian in the face of the British army.

Needless to say, Feliciano ran very fast.

"If only that boy would try out for track," Ludwig mumbled to himself, possibly for the thousandth time. He was on the varsity track team, and for the past few years he had been trying to get Feliciano to join as well. Unfortunately, his Italian friend was normally extremely lazy and never made the cut during try outs.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. Now wasn't the time to be reminiscing about anything related to school. It was Christmas break, and Ludwig was looking forward to going home and relaxing. He smiled as he thought about curling up in front of the fireplace, wrapped in a warm blanket, and reading all the new books that he hadn't had time to read yet because of his hectic school life. This break was going to be absolutely wonderful, he told himself as he made his way home. Already Feliciano's strange actions were the farthest things from his mind.

Especially when he got home.

"I'm home, _Bruder_!" Ludwig called into the big house as he stepped inside. He carefully removed his shoes and set them outside, careful not to drop a speck of mud on the spotless floors.

"LUDDY!"

Gilbert's voice, booming in excitement, foretold disaster. Ludwig steeled his mind and body as a large albino man came hurtling around the corner (wearing shoes, to Ludwig's dismay). There was some kind of bundle on a platter that Gilbert was holding, but the man was bouncing too much for Ludwig to see it clearly. So he waited, muscles tense, in case his older brother failed to stop and crashed right into him—again.

Luckily for him, Gilbert managed to skid to a halt just inches away from impact, although he loomed dangerously over Ludwig for a few moments. Once the danger had passed, Gilbert gave a proud grin that lit up his red eyes, and shoved the bundle-on-a-plate right under Ludwig's nose.

"Hey, Luddy, check it out! Isn't it awesome?" Gilbert asked breathlessly.

Whatever "it" was, it stunk. Ludwig covered his nose with one hand. "Ugh, what is it?" he asked, eyeing the grey mass (which turned out not to be a bundle after all) suspiciously.

"Wurst-loaf!" Gilbert replied, practically shoving Ludwig's face into it.

Ludwig stared at it in disbelief. "Wurst… Loaf?" Now that Gilbert mentioned it, the grey blob looked a lot like mashed up wurst. As much as he loved wurst, the new creation did not look appealing in the least.

Gilbert nodded. "Yes! It's so awesome! And Elizaveta wanted to make regular old meatloaf, too! What a travesty!"

He was sure that his older brother didn't even know what a "travesty" was. Ludwig sighed. "Why can't you just make meatloaf like a normal human being?" he lamented.

It was a reasonable enough question, but Gilbert looked as if Ludwig had struck him across the face. "Normal? Are you kidding, Luddy? I'm too awesome to be boring, like your uncle Roddy is! I'm so awesome that everything I touch turns to awesomeness!" Gilbert held up the unappetizing grey mass of wurst-loaf. "Thus this dish is totally awesome! You'll see when you try it!"

Like always, the albino was very earnest in everything he did. So much so that Ludwig almost wanted to try the wurst-loaf just for the passionate speech Gilbert gave. Luckily, Ludwig wasn't quite ready to die yet.

He turned his head away. "No thanks," he said.

Gilbert didn't give up. He nearly smashed the food into Ludwig's face. "Aw, come on, _Bruder_! Don't be so unawesome! Try it!"

Ludwig's health was saved by a frying pan swinging through the air and striking the back of Gilbert's head. The struck man stumbled forward, past Ludwig, and lost his hold on the plate. It went flying.

"Noooooo! Stop, don't destroy my wurst-loaf!" Gilbert cried, reaching out as if to try and stop it with telekinesis.

Despite the older German's best efforts, and to Ludwig's immense relief, the plate hit the ground, food splattering everywhere.

"Damn it, Gil! I told you not to try to poison anyone while I was making fruitcake!" Gilbert's wife, Elizaveta said, hands on her hips and still armed with a frying pan.

Gilbert moaned pitifully. "It's not poison, Lizzie! It's the best thing I've ever made!" he said. There were actual tears in his eyes as he mourned the loss of the wurst-loaf.

"That's not saying much! You suck at cooking!" the brunette countered. Even with the frown on her face, and her brows sharply furrowed, Ludwig couldn't deny that she was a beautiful woman. If he saw his brother and wife together without knowing anything about them, he would be amazed that his idiot of an older brother ever got a woman so stunningly attractive to marry him.

Then again, both were completely psycho, so it made sense. Insanity attracted, apparently.

"It was delicious! If you just _tasted_ it…" Gilbert insisted, standing up straight. He was much taller than Elizaveta, but that didn't stop the woman from completely dominating him at times.

"No way! It was crap!" Elizaveta crossed her arms in finality, spinning on her heel to go back into the kitchen.

"No. It was…" Gilbert paused for dramatic effect. "The wurst!"

He didn't have time to laugh at his own joke before the cast iron frying pan made contact with his skull again. He yelped in pain, clutching at the injured spot. "What the hell? That hurt!" he protested. "What was that for?"

Elizaveta waved the frying pan threateningly at him. "That was for the painfully horrible pun that you had to go and make," she told him, glaring.

"It was awesome!"

For his efforts to convince Elizaveta that his cooking was, in fact, "awesome", Gilbert received another whack over his head with a frying pan. As the older German huddled in a corner, nursing his wounds and still lamenting over the loss of his wurst-loaf, Elizaveta turned to Ludwig with a kind, gentle smile that she'd won Gilbert's heart with.

"Would you like to try this year's fruitcake?" she asked him kindly.

Ludwig's mouth went dry as he nodded. "_Ja_, sounds good." His brother's wife was an amazing cook. Anything that had to do with housekeeping, Elizaveta was great at. She was pretty much the perfect housewife, if one overlooked her insanity.

He followed her into the kitchen, leaving Gilbert to his self. She gave him an apologetic look. "I'm afraid it's not actual fruitcake this year. Gil used all the flour to make his silly little meatloaf thing. So we'll have to do with fruit salad," Elizaveta explained.

Ludwig felt his heart sink. Elizaveta's fruitcake was something that he looked forward to all year. Now he would have to wait another whole three hundred and sixty-five days to taste it again. He sighed in resignation. "Very well," he said.

She ruffled his hair affectionately. "Don't worry; I made it like Francis does. With marshmallows and whipped cream," she said.

Francis was vulgar, perverted, and just generally annoying, but he was an amazing cook. Ludwig brightened a bit, although his face remained stoic. His back straightened a tad, and his eyes lit up. "I'm sure it's delicious."

Elizaveta made him a small plate of her fruit salad, and although it hadn't taken much real cooking on the Hungarian woman's part, Ludwig was certain that nobody in the entire world could've made it any better. Including the professional chef, Francis.

Ludwig hear the phone ring in the living room. "I'll get it!" Gilbert shouted. Elizaveta smiled and took the now-empty plate away from Ludwig.

"Why don't you become a chef like Francis?" Ludwig asked. He was certain that Elizaveta could easily make a name for herself with her cooking.

She laughed his question off. "No, I'd much rather stay here and help take care of you and Gil while your parents are off doing God-knows-what," she said. Then her smile warmed considerably. "It's good practice for when I have a baby."

He started, astonished by her comment. "Are you…?" Ludwig asked, looking down to her flat stomach.

Elizaveta laughed lightly, shaking her head. "No, I'm not pregnant yet! But soon, I hope," she said.

Ludwig tried to think of something to say to that, but could not wrap his mind around the possibility of a little Gilbert running amok in the world. One was bad enough. Thankfully, he was saved from responding when his brother ran into the kitchen.

"Hey, guess who just called!" Gilbert said, excitedly.

Oh Gott, Ludwig prayed, please don't let him say Feliciano called.

And God answered his prayers. "Marcus called! He invited us over to spend Christmas break with him and his family!" Because God had a cruel sense of humor.

Ludwig groaned, while Elizaveta squealed in delight. "Oh, I just can't wait to see little Feli! I remember when he was just a kid, and I dressed him up in just the cutest outfits!" she exclaimed, clasping her hands together in her excitement.

Both Gilbert's and Ludwig's eye twitched as they thought about the young Italian boy in girl's clothes. Gilbert recovered first, and wrapped an arm around his wife's waist.

"Better get packing then! We're going over tomorrow!"

Ludwig mentally groaned. Tomorrow was much too soon.

* * *

><p><strong>6 Days Before Christmas<strong>

"**Off to grandma's.**

**It's so boring;**

**Screaming kids**

**And grandpa's snoring.**

**My aunt Margaret's lost her mind. **

**Tripping on a train set,**

**Have another box of wine.**

**It's going to be a merry, merry, merry freakin' Christmas."**

Gilbert was notorious to sleeping in late. He'd lounge in bed, snoring away, until his early-rising wife woke him for lunch. Ludwig had no idea how his brother did it. After all, whenever _he _attempted to sleep in late, he only got to eight in the morning before he was too uncomfortable to lie down any longer. Either way, Ludwig was sure that they wouldn't leave for Feliciano's house until the afternoon, and he woke up early just for the sake of savoring the last few hours by himself.

Unfortunately, today was not a normal day. Gilbert was up even earlier than him and Elizaveta, and was the one to shake them both awake. He looked like an excited little kid as he ushered the two into the kitchen for breakfast, dodging his wife's notorious frying pan when she awoke in a bad mood.

"Come on you two, let's get a move on! I want to be there early so we can have some of old Marcus's great cooking!" Gilbert said. Ludwig decided not to point out that the Italians all stayed in bed until noon. It was the reason that Feliciano was always late to school, and his older brother, Lovino (now in college), only took afternoon classes.

Elizaveta shot him an icy glare. "And what's wrong with my cooking?" she demanded, sounding furious.

Gilbert, oblivious to his safety as always, said, "It's not an Italian's cooking."

She swung her frying pan at his head. Gilbert dodged it, but stumbled and fell to the ground. "_Fattyú_!" she screeched, holding the frying pan high above her head.

"What the hell, woman? All I said is that I prefer Italian to your cooking!" Gilbert protested. Ludwig sensed that he wouldn't have an older brother for much longer.

"_Megöllek_!" Elizaveta screamed, swinging down. She missed Gilbert's head by only a couple inches.

Gilbert's eyes widened. "_S- Scheiße_, you're speaking Hungarian, aren't you?" Elizaveta only spoke in her native tongue when she was out for blood.

The woman in question didn't answer, only prepared the frying pan for the fatal blow. Ludwig moved quickly, snatching the frying pan out of Elizaveta's hands. She turned to him, hissing like a cat.

He swallowed hard. "I know my _bruder _is an asshole, but please don't kill him," he pleaded nervously. An angry Hungarian was a scary Hungarian.

Elizaveta took a few moments to regain her composure. She took a deep breath, straightening her clothes. "R—right, let's go," she said, smiling sweetly.

After consoling Gilbert and reassuring him that Elizaveta was speaking English again, they left and made it to Feliciano's house without any further problems. Ludwig was actually relieved. At least now the chances that his brother and wife would kill each other were a lot less. He was so caught up in his relief that he didn't see the train set until it was too late.

He fell through the air, backwards. His arms flailed wildly, trying and failing to grab hold of something to prevent his fall. He hit the sidewalk hard, his head bouncing painfully against the concrete. He groaned, tears in the corners of his eyes.

"_Verdammt_, that hurt," he muttered to himself, slowly sitting up.

"Are you ok, Ludwig?" Elizaveta asked as Gilbert knelt down to check for injuries.

"Don't worry, Lizzie, he's just fine. Just like a regular old Prussian!" Gilbert said, satisfied that Ludwig didn't have any major injuries.

"_Bruder_, we're German. Prussia doesn't even exist anymore," Ludwig managed to say through gritted teeth. The back of his head was throbbing painfully. He was going to murder whoever left that train set sitting out in the middle of the walkway.

Gilbert gasped. "You must've hit your head hard to be speaking such blasphemy!" he exclaimed.

"No, you're just an idiot, Gil," Elizaveta interjected, crossing her arms.

Their impending argument was interrupted by a loud laugh from the second story. They looked up to see an auburn-haired man, no older than twenty-one, practically hanging out of the window.

"Ha! Can't believe you fell for that, potato bastard!" the young man laughed harshly. Ludwig's mouth twisted into a heavy frown as he stood up and dusted imaginary dirt off of his impeccably clean suit that he put on for the occasion.

Elizaveta frowned at the laughing Italian. "That's not nice, Lovi!" she called, hands on her hips.

The man—Lovino Vargas—noticed her for the first time. He emitted an audible whimper and ducked back inside the house so that only the strange curl could be seen from outside. The Hungarian woman sighed, half-annoyed, half-fondly.

"That boy needs to grow up. Honestly, he's an adult," she commented, looking up at the still-open window.

Personally, Ludwig thought that the _entire_ Vargas family needed to grow up. And his family, too. While he was at it, most of the people he knew needed to mature a little bit. By a little bit, he meant a _lot_.

Before he could continue that train of thought, the front door of the mansion (it truly was a mansion, although Ludwig had no idea where old Marcus got all the money from) flung open. Feliciano all but threw himself out of the house, tackling his German friend in an enthusiastic hug.

"Luddy! Ve, I'm so glad you get to spend the _entire _Christmas break at my house! I was so sad when you said that you couldn't come because of spending Christmas with your family, but then I remembered what my _nonno _said when I was little. Do you know what he said? Guess!" Feliciano paused for the length of one full breath, and plowed on before Ludwig could even process what the Italian said. "He said that sometimes friends are like family, like Uncle Roddy and big sister Elizaveta and big brother Francis and big brother Antonio! So I thought that my _whole_ family should spend time together and invited you all here! Isn't that a great idea? Isn't it?"

By the time Feliciano finally finished speaking, Ludwig had stopped listening. When he did, Ludwig blinked. "Wait, when you said you're inviting all your friends, does that include Kiku and his family?" Ludwig really liked the socially awkward Japanese boy, but the rest of his Asian family were… Odd, to put it nicely.

Feliciano nodded excitedly. "Kiku, too! I invited lots of people over! But almost all of them said they didn't want to take up too much space. Even Kiku said that! I don't know why, because _nonno's_ house is very big, and we can fit all of them in and it would be lots of fun to have everyone here in a huuuuuuge sleepover, wouldn't it?"

Ludwig sighed in resignation. "_Ja, _I suppose so," he said.

He jumped a bit when Feliciano suddenly grabbed hold of his sleep. Ludwig looked down in some surprise, and found himself staring into wide, pleading eyes.

"Luddy, would you sleep with me, please? I really miss you coming over like you used to when we were little. Please?"

No matter how annoying his Italian friend was, Ludwig found that he just _couldn't _hate him. He sighed again, this time betraying affection.

"_Ja, _I'll sleep with you."

* * *

><p><strong>5 Days Before Christmas<strong>

"**Uncle Richard, he's a weirdo,**

**Passing out pictures of himself in a speedo.**

**My cousin Ashley, her singing really sucks.**

**Blames it on their drummer and his acid reflux."**

The next morning, Gilbert once again woke up at a record-breaking early morning. This time, it was not at his own volition. The entire house was woken up by the doorbell ringing several times.

When Ludwig heard it, he figured he could ignore it and just go back to sleep. However, he was wrong for two reasons. One was that whoever was at the door was incessantly ringing the doorbell without waiting for someone to answer. The other was the person he so happened to be sharing a bed with.

Just as he was about to drift back to sleep in spite of the noise, he felt two hands begin to shake him urgently. "Ve, Luddy, there's someone at the door," Feliciano whined, sounding tired still.

Ludwig had to fight to not break the Italian's hands off. "It's your house, Feliciano. You answer the door," he grumbled.

Feliciano seemed to fail to see the logic in that. "Ve, but Luddy, what if it's someone scary? It's really early in the morning, so it must be a rapist or something, and then if I go answer the door they'll grab me and then take me someplace scary then kill me and that would be really scary, ve!"

The German groaned. "Fine, I get it. I'll go with you to answer the door," he said. If only to stop Feliciano's senseless tirade.

They went downstairs to the front door, reaching it at the same time that Feliciano's older brother wandered out of the kitchen. The auburn-haired boy scowled at them, particularly Ludwig.

"Ve, _buon giorno, fratello_~. Me and Luddy are going to get the door," Feliciano greeted, still sounding sleepy despite his fast talking from earlier.

Lovino scoffed. "What the hell are you doing, answering someone else's door, potato bastard?" he demanded. Obviously, the older Italian was not a morning person. Or a day person. Or a night person. Basically, Lovino was always in a bad mood, no matter what time of day it was.

Ludwig sighed heavily. Even though he got up early all the time, it was still too early in the morning to deal with this. "Feliciano asked me to get the door with him," he explained.

This made Lovino roll his eyes. "Whatever, potato bastard, I'll get it!" he said, marching up to the front door and flinging it open.

Whatever ill-tempered greeting the Italian had prepared was cut off by a cheerful, "Lovi~! _Mi tomatito_~!"

"CHIGIII!" With a very unmanly shriek, Lovino stumbled backwards. "Tomato bastard! What the hell are you doing here?"

"Ohonhon, long time no see, Lovino," came a more suggestive voice.

Lovino dove behind Ludwig. "Damn it! This is your fault, so protect me, potato bastard!" Ludwig had no idea why it was _his _fault, but decided not to comment.

"Oh, don't be like that, little cutie. Didn't we have fun together on Halloween?" the man returned, walking inside with two brown-haired men in tow.

"You got me drunk, you stupid perverted wine bastard!" Lovino retorted, clenching the back of Ludwig's shirt.

The blond man, who had spoken, Francis, laughed. "You didn't have to drink with me, you know."

"F—fuck, get out of here!"

One of the brunettes, a man with wide emerald eyes, looked around the house. "Ah, I love this place~! It's so airy. It reminds me of my parents' farmhouse back in Spain, with those wonderful tomato fields," he said with a dreamy look on his face.

"Hmph, I suppose it's fine," the less good-tempered brunette man said, arms crossed.

Francis slung an arm over the ill-humored man's shoulders. "Oh, come on, Roderich, lighten up! It's Christmas!" he said.

Roderich slipped out from Francis's embrace. "It's not going to be Christmas for several days, so kindly refrain from touching me," he huffed, adjusting his glasses.

"Ohonhon, so I can touch you all I want once Christmas gets here?"

"That's not—!"

"Ve, big brother Antonio, big brother Francis! Welcome~!" Feliciano had finally regained his senses, flinging himself at the respective men, cutting off what was no doubt an angry rant from Roderich.

"Hmph, how rude to not welcome all of your guests, Feliciano," Roderich said critically and causing Feliciano to shrink away with a nervous "hi".

"Don't call them your brothers, Feliciano, you idiot! I don't want to even think about being related to those bastards!" Lovino said, poking his head out from behind Ludwig.

"Ah, Lovi~! I didn't see you there!" Antonio exclaimed as he returned Feliciano's enthusiastic hug. Never mind that Francis was just speaking to him a couple minutes before, and that Antonio himself had greeted him. The Spaniard immediately disentangled himself from the younger Italian to hug the older brother.

"Fuck, will you get off of me, you tomato bastard? I don't want to hug you!" Lovino protested, trying to push Antonio away to no avail.

"Aww, Lovi, you're so mean!" Antonio whined, tightening his affectionate hold.

"CHIGI! Fine, hug me! But I can't breathe, so loosen up a bit! Geez, are you an adult or a fucking five-year-old?" Lovino demanded, giving up. Antonio happily complied.

Francis saw that Lovino was being "restrained" by Antonio's hug, and took the opportunity presented to him. He joined the embrace, sliding his hands up Lovino's chest sensually.

"Chigi! What the fuck are you doing?"

"I think it's you who needs to loosen up a bit, Lovino~," the Frenchman said suggestively.

Ludwig decided it was time to step in, before Lovino was raped or molested or something in his own house. Even if he _really _didn't like the Italian. He grabbed the back of Francis's shirt, and dragged him away, much to said Frenchman's dismay.

The noise was bound to wake the others in the house, and it eventually did. "Kesesese, dudes! You're finally here!" A certain albino appeared at the top of the steps, hands on his hips in a wide stance. There was a wide grin on the German's face.

Antonio waved wildly, finally releasing Lovino, who scuttled off into some other room, presumably to barricade himself in his room. "_Hola, _Gil! We're here!" he announced unnecessarily.

Gilbert jumped on the banister and slid down the stairs, landing with a barrel roll which he no doubt thought loosed epically awesome. Ludwig just thought it looked idiotic.

"Feli here's got Rock Band. You two ready to rock this mansion?" Gilbert said, fist-pumping.

Antonio mirrored his albino friend. "_Sí_, let's go!"

Francis flipped his hair. "But of course. I cannot allow you to form any kind of band without my sexy self."

Roderich sighed loudly. "What are you three? Children?" he asked, yet again adjusting his glasses. Ludwig couldn't agree more.

Feliciano yawned, returning to Ludwig. "Ve, Luddy, can we go back to bed now?" he asked, his burst of energy from welcoming the new guests burnt out.

Ludwig weighed his options. On the one hand, he didn't really want to go back to bed. He was much too awake from the commotion by now (and he was surprised Elizaveta and Marcus hadn't woken up as well). On the other hand, Gilbert was always the singer, and he really _sucked _at singing. He definitely didn't want to be around for that.

So he nodded resignedly. "_Ja,_ let's go back to bed."

* * *

><p><strong>Christmas Day<strong>

"**My brother's wife is really hot.**

**She pulled me in the bathroom.**

**I hope we don't get caught.**

**It's gonna be a merry, merry, merry freakin' Christmas.**

…

**We haven't even opened our presents yet,**

**Now it's time to start.**

**So I'll fake a smile**

**Because it's going back to Walmart."**

Every. Single. Day.

Ever since Francis and Antonio arrived, the three had played Rock Band every day, to the annoyance of the entire household. Gilbert, as Ludwig said many times before, was a horrid singer. Antonio on the drums was no good, since he often got bored of the "monotonous" rhythms (his words), and then he would make up random beats that did not go with the song at all. Then there was Francis, whose fingers simply could not keep up with the songs they did. It really should have been Antonio on guitar, Gilbert on drums, and Francis singing, but the three just did not realize this.

So every day the house was subjected to their horrible attempts at playing Rock Band. Elizaveta, by Christmas Eve, had figured out the combination to the travel safe that Gilbert kept his on-the-go beer in. To celebrate, she spent the night blissfully drunk, and passed out in bed before

Christmas morning was no exception. The second that Xbox came on, Elizaveta locked herself in the guest room she and Gilbert had for the vacation. A couple hours after the game was finally turned off, Elizaveta still hadn't emerged.

Ludwig was worried about this. What if she had gotten alcohol poisoning or something? Not everyone had his brother's strong resistance to alcohol, and he knew that Gilbert's beer was strong stuff. He decided to go up and check on her.

It wasn't necessary, though. As he climbed the stairs, he found Elizaveta stumbling down the hall toward him, presumably to go _downstairs._ Ludwig approached her.

"Ah, good, I was worried that you had died," he said honestly.

Elizaveta swayed dangerously. He held his arms out to steady her. She gratefully allowed him to support her, draping herself heavily over him. "Ugh, Ludwig, I don't feel so good," she murmured, almost inaudibly.

He blushed lightly. Even with her messed up hair and the smell of beer hanging over her, Elizaveta was a very beautiful woman.

"Maybe… You should go lie down…" he suggested, hoping to get her off of him as quickly as possible.

She shook her head, and instead pulled him into the hall bathroom. He stumbled after her, surprised by her sudden movements.

"E—Elizaveta," Ludwig stammered. "I don't think this is appropriate. You're my brother's—"

He was cut off when Elizaveta threw herself down at the toilet and promptly rid her body of the beer she had consumed that morning. Oh…

"Here, I'll hold your hair," Ludwig said awkwardly, embarrassed for his misconception. He closed the door to give Elizaveta more privacy from prying eyes, then went to hold back the woman's thick brown hair.

Elizaveta coughed. "Th—thank you, Ludwig. You're very sweet," she said when she stopped retching.

"Do you drink very much?" he asked. He never took the Hungarian for an alcoholic, although he was sure that anyone close to his brother had to drink on a daily basis just to deal with the egotistical man.

She shook her head, wiping away tears. "I always thought it was a bad idea." She paused as her stomach heaved painfully. "Ugh, I was right."

They were silent for a while. Well, as silent as a German and puking Hungarian could be, which was remarkably quiet considering the circumstances. "Merry Christmas," Ludwig finally said awkwardly.

Elizaveta giggled a bit, which turned into hysterical laughing. "Oh, so it is! Merry Christmas!" she said, only a bit of sarcasm.

They were in there for quite a while. Even after Elizaveta's stomach was empty, she remained by the toilet, just in case. Ludwig fetched her a glass of water, which she sipped at carefully.

After a while, there was a knock on the door. "**Hey, Lizzie, are you ok in there?**" Gilbert's voice came through the closed door.

Either her husband's voice was the trigger, or she somehow drank too much water too fast, but after that question, Elizaveta bent over the toilet bowl again. "**Ugh!**"

Ludwig opened the door to a very surprised and confused-looking Gilbert. Before he could ask why Ludwig was in there with _his _wife, Ludwig said, "She got into your beer stores and now she's puking it all back up."

Gilbert paled a bit, knowing how much of a lightweight his wife was, and rushed in to be at her side.

The younger German sighed. As crazy as this vacation had been so far, this was actually fairly normal as far as Ludwig's Christmases went. Sometimes he wondered if his entire family and friends needed to visit a psychiatric ward…

* * *

><p><strong>The Day After Christmas<strong>

Ludwig was happy to finally be at his own house, and he escaped into his room immediately. He flung the bag of gifts that he'd received onto his bed. Most of them he didn't care for, and he intended to begin to clean them out that moment.

From Francis, he had gotten several… indecent books featuring young women doing lewd things. However, Gilbert confiscated them immediately, saying that it was much too mature for Ludwig. Elizaveta had subsequently confiscated them from _Gilbert_, saying that she didn't trust him to get rid of them. Gilbert didn't argue, slightly wary of his wife's mood during one of her very rare, but very _violent _hangovers.

The first thing Ludwig actually pulled out was Antonio's gift—a small delicate glass tomato. It wasn't anything special. Antonio gave _everyone_ something tomato-themed _every single year._ Ludwig was pretty sure that Lovino was the only one who appreciated the tomatoes, although the Italian pretended he hated it. He set it on the bed, making a note to give it to Feliciano for his birthday or something. His friend probably wouldn't even remember that it was Antonio's Christmas gift anyway.

Next was a book of sheet music from Roderich. Years ago, when Ludwig was a toddler, Roderich had gotten him a small violin, hoping to "teach culture the barbarian's son", or something like that. He still needed to tell the Austrian that the violin had broken the very next day, by Gilbert saying that instruments were for wusses, unless it was something manly, like the drums or guitar. Ludwig didn't care too much either way, though…

Lovino had gotten him a present, too, much to Ludwig's surprise at the time. Then again, it had been a lump of coal in a box, with a messy note that said, "Suck it, potato bastard #1! XP". Gilbert had gotten a similar gift, and complained that he was "potato bastard #2" and Ludwig was "#1". Ludwig had thrown it away that night.

Kiku, although he didn't go, had sent him a book entitled "How to Stop Being Such a Manual Reading Neat Freak with OCD". Ludwig supposed he should read that sometime…

Then there was the joint gift between Gilbert and Elizaveta—a bag of Elizaveta's homemade cookies. Gilbert had told him later that he'd wanted to get Ludwig beer as well, but Elizaveta would let him. Ludwig was grateful for that.

Finally, there was Feliciano's gift. It was simple—a picture of him and Ludwig, the latter with the most serious look while the former seemed like taking that picture with his friend was the greatest honor in the world. The picture was inside a handmade macaroni frame, which looked like something Feliciano had done in elementary school. In fact, in the note attached to it, Feliciano said that it _was_ something he had done in elementary school. He said that it was the first thing that he had ever done well in his life. That touched Ludwig more than he would ever admit to anyone.

Smiling, Ludwig set the frame upon his bedside table. Perhaps next year he would tell Feliciano that he'd love to come over for Christmas, instead of making his friend do all the work to bring them together (well, maybe not that he'd _love _to, but a simple yes would convey the idea).

Despite the insanity over the past week, Ludwig found himself actually looking forward to next year.

* * *

><p><strong>Translations:<strong>

**Ja (German): Yes**

**Ciao (Italian): Hello/Bye**

**Bruder (German): Brother**

**Fattyú (Hungarian): Bastard**

**Megöllek (Hungarian): I'll kill you**

**Scheiße (German): Shit**

**Verdammt (German): Damn it**

**Nonno (Italian): Grandfather**

**Buon giorno (Italian): Good morning**

**Fratello ("): Brother**

**Mi tomatito (Spanish): My little tomato**

**Hola ("): Hello**

**Sí ("): Yes**


End file.
